Light Through the Blinds
by Juneblue
Summary: AU. Going blind, Naruto pretends he can still see so people won't treat him differently. But when his friend Sasuke puts the moves on him, Naruto's desperate to repair his eyesight. Who knew though he'd fall for his doctor, Itachi, instead? ItaNaru. SasuNaruSasu.
1. Language is Tactile

Warnings: rated M for boy love and sexual situations, this chapter contains some 'lime'. As of now, not planning to include any threesomes.

_Notes and A/N_: A pilot chapter for a new dramedy I was mulling about. Kind of testing, if people out there might be interested in this premise?

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**Chapter One**

**Language is Tactile**

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Clang, _tlap_, krat!

"_What is he doing?_" whispers break out, like cackling flames.

Frantic hands mash the buttons. Six. Needs the sixth floor, yet the text's blurred.

Sheepishly he smiles, while the rest of his face flushes in heat. Panic raining in his fingertips as they quiver.

"Sorry—'bout that," Naruto murmurs, without turning.

"Great going. Now we'll stop on every floor."

That's when the glares behind him relentlessly drill into his back from everyone in the elevator. Hammering holes into his shirt, his neck, and bones. As humiliation beats down like little knives, he blinks rapidly to the loud thrums of his heartbeat, willing for clarity, yet the only clarity is through sound. Just a damned elevator ride, _breathe_, for hell's sake.

And he breathes. Shakily.

When a _ding_ sounds, Naruto jolts out the opening doors. Bumps straight into an eager, awaiting body.

Never would he admit, how he recognizes Sasuke by the feeling of their collision. Dimensions fitting, the stiffness of their shoulders bumping, and the airs mingling—almost like a familiar scent of their usual heated exchanges. Feels this all like a warmth blanketing around him. And though he can't see but the outlines, Naruto looks up at the blurred face, as if he's soaking in the sight. He's not.

He can't see his own rival. Only feels.

"Oi, Sasuke," Naruto gripes breathlessly, ripping away, pointing an accusing finger, "You just don't hover by elevator doors. Basic manners!"

Not even a sound of acknowledgement. However he hears the low, smooth tone murmur softly.

"Speaking of manners, you better not be late tonight."

Words roll over like faint winds. Before he has a chance to react, Sasuke's blurry form disappears behind closing doors.

So, he's sweating. Beads of anxiety cooling and slithering down his temples. Because—because his circumstances…unable to see, even his own hand's fine lines, who'd want to go on a date like this? Who?

What would Sasuke even think of him then?

-.-.-

So after class, to fulfill a much necessary doctor's appointment, Naruto paves way into the heart of town.

Though, he sits on the wrong bus. And you're the only one he admits this to, he hates asking for directions.

After all, he thought he memorized the signs. Plus getting over the shock of riding a full fifteen stops in the opposite direction, was no easy task. Calls himself stupid, and unbelievable, but when hearing someone else utter the words…was like a sword cutting through his spine.

"What are you, illiterate?" says the bus driver, a condescending frail old man.

Besides the first seconds, wherein his heart plummets, Naruto felt in a word, furious—anger akin to demonic possession. In fact, if he hadn't been running late, and if the man weren't some gaunt, skeletal creature, he'd clobber some sense into the rude sap. He was going blind, not stupid.

But two hours on the clock tugs him out the bus like a hand. A mean, abrupt, hand. Mind screams _late_, god damned late, and Naruto rushes into the clinic like jet fuel exploding from the heels of his feet. He pats for the handles of the entrance, swings it wide open and throws himself onto the stage of the waiting room; because let's face it, with a room chock-full of insanely bored patients, everyone's snaps their attentions onto him.

Panting haggardly from exhaustion, he leans over the front desk.

"Name?" asks one of the receptionists. Almost a robotic pitch.

Naruto grins, clutching the counter, willing himself steady. "Uzumaki Naruto," hears her shuffle papers, so he saves the hassle, "Listen, I have an appointment with Dr. Tsuna—"

"Oh. She already left. An hour ago."

No. Throat thickens. "But—but…I was supposed to pick up a prescription. Just eye drops, can't I?"

He sees the light of her form shift, as in exasperation. "You need the doctor's full approval and say. Schedule another appointment, and pick it up then."

"So is tomorrow alright?" he says quickly, "Tomorrow the same time as today?"

"I'm afraid that Dr. Tsunade has booked a trip. And she won't be in the office at least for another month…already have patients fully wedged in her schedule upon her return, too."

He can't see at all without the drops! They pour life into his eyes. Not that they're dead without 'em, just he never really understood the meaning '_blind as a bat_' until he went two weeks without some medicine. Felt like walking on tight ropes, always threatening to fall hard into something or someone—people have begun to notice—and Sasuke. Tonight, Sasuke'll notice for sure.

Naruto squeezes his own temples, burning up in disbelief. "Really? You can't call her? It's just a paper, you know, if you can," voice crumbles because he sees her head shake.

"Listen, I don't have the authority to sign anything over to you. You and I need a doctor's signature. I'm sorry."

Understands perfectly, even agrees. But his body won't move. "What am I supposed to do? I can't…go without…" comes out in fragments, in erratic breaths.

"Well if it's an emergency, we have another ophthalmologist here. Dr. Uchiha has a booked schedule, but I'll ask him if he'll see you today," assures the receptionist, handing him a board to sign, "Sign your name under the query, while I inform him."

Dumbfounded, Naruto holds the clipboard. Staring. Doctor Uchiha…but he can't see the lines of the words, just a white blank sheet glowing under the fluorescents, and the feeling of solid wood. Rubs his fingers over the cool metallic clip, squinting down. Yet, he scarcely makes out the faint boxes, and he tries zooming into the name Uchiha, but only muddy, empty blurs meets his gaze.

_Sasuke has a doctor in the family?_

Could it be Sasuke's parents? An uncle? Grandfather? Maybe the name's coincidental.

He must've misheard, that's it.

So, Naruto signs his name right under the latest black smudge. Assumes he wrote in the next empty white box, because the receptionist tells him to wait in a seat.

Yet he's charged with doubt and fear, like an electric zap rousing his nerves to permanent attention. He paces around the antechamber in circles, again assuming the performer on stage, by now memorizing all four corners of the space enough not to hit the table, or bump into chairs. Everyone's shooting furtive glances, he feels their eyes scrape him with curiosity and—

"Uzumaki, Naruto?" calls out an attendant, holding files in one arm, and holding a door open in the other.

Two hours, waiting to hear his name—and now he feels his blood curl to climax.

He's led into the exam room. But walking through the halls, was like walking through a cave of judgment.

_Sasuke'll find out_.

They won't be equals anymore. They won't _be friends_. Because he'll be forced into special classrooms, and he's seen them in his nightmares. Sympathy in everyone's eyes, no longer considering him an equal functioning person—no, no, fuck, no. Pulse throbs in his neck. Should wait for Tsunade. Should leave and not come back, leave before his face's seen.

Runs clammy hands over his face and eyes, while he sits on the patient chair. Torn.

After the medical assistant takes his vitals, she leaves. But he hears her call out, "Itachi, two files here."

_Itachi…_

Never has Sasuke mentioned the name to him. And he sighs in relief, for maybe the last name, was a coincidence after all.

Soon after he finally breathes, the doctor enters.

_Click_. The sound of the hinges locking in place. Space enclosing.

Looking hopelessly at the moving blur in a white coat, Naruto says, "I, uh, wanna say thanks for fitting me in as last minute."

That's when the tower of authority looms over him. Can hardly make out the details. And yet, through the fog…_they_ look the same. Blinking rapidly, he thought he's seen Sasuke, and so desperately wills the clarity to return. Widens his eyes too, but helps for shit, he can't fucking make out anything!

_Is it Sasuke?_

"Tell me what you need, Naruto," fills the deep voice, condensing heat into every space of doubt.

The baritone leaves a soft residue on his skin, causing goosebumps; a tone much unlike Sasuke's higher octaves.

Naruto drops his unfocused gaze, muttering, "To restock on the drops. Seeing blurs again."

Creaking of a stool, as Itachi mounts on it, glides up close. At once he smells a discerning, concerned air—and his brows furrow, because he never felt this before. Never in Tsunade's office.

"Think ya can help me, doc?" Naruto laughs nervously, especially when the silence persists.

A slender gloved finger hooks under the square of his jaw, and Naruto feels his head tip up. The touch transmits an electric interest: and he's getting desperate to see the other, how they appear, their physiognomy. With wavering and widening eyes, he looks up to the outline of the doctor's blurred face leaning to him.

"Stare ahead."

Startled, Naruto obeys. Even as a light passes dimly over each eye. He's not sure what's happening.

"Weak reflexes. Extremely slow uptake, and recovery. You're getting worse."

_Straight to the point, huh_. Naruto's released from the gentle hold. "Worse, you mean—how worse?"

"Further tests should show the rate," says the other, "and according to your chart, you haven't run any tests except for primary screening. Now tell me, why is that?"

"I—I…" flushing, Naruto withdraws more into the seat.

"Results from the primary screening indicate first stages of serious illness. Potential permanent blindness in both eyes." The sound of pages flipping, carefully, and deliberately. "With pressure over twenty-two, above the normal range, we need to move onto testing and treatment immediately."

Heating more and more, Naruto clenches his fists. "I thought I had more time."

"Time for what?"

Naruto swallows, screwing these useless eyes shut. Was he supposed to actually admit? Was it appropriate? No. He couldn't explain how broke he is, how penniless he is, that he scarcely had the funds for the eye drops, let alone tests. He's sure this is the last thing a doctor wants to hear, a patient unable to pay for their service.

"I just don't think I need to do any tests now, that's it. Especially when the drops are helping me fine," he settles for.

That's when Itachi responds airily, "And the legal guardian you list here, has no input or say?"

"None at all. I'm eighteen now and I live alone."

A contemplative hum escapes the doctor, never breaking their proximity apart. Itachi, perched on the stool between his legs, reaches for him again. And Naruto bristles when his jaw's recaptured in the same latex clad hands. Sitting on even heights, Itachi still looms over anyway, ever taller and unwaveringly; and Naruto's enthralled by the veil, by the mist between them. Kind of drifting in virtual fog, he almost wants to blow the thick air away.

"Keep them open. Look up. Good," coaxes Itachi, "I'll quench your eyes for today."

And he stares up at the dull light overhead on the ceiling….barely making out the shadows. Drips, like tears fall into him. Pour into and wet the corners of his eyes. Naruto breathes, like he'd been held underwater, breathes like a gasp of life in eternal minutes of death. The burning wanes like minty tingles. And he blinks, his mouth parted still—for second by second, details materializes in his vision, popping out, sprouting from invisible buds.

Flowers of sight returning.

In that moment, Naruto lowers his head to thank. And he chokes back.

Itachi, he sees Itachi. Splotches of blurs chase to the edges, yet he sees for the first time the smoldering chestnuts—dainty brows flat and framing mirrors of concentrated intensity, perfectly knowing, gazing into him. The concerned air he smelled before like a perfume, now manifests poignantly in the fair body of the doctor. Nothing like Tsunade's panache aura, this was…

"Better?"

"Yeah. I mean—I…yeah thanks doc," he stammers pathetically, while the muscles in his neck tense.

Reaching into the pockets of his white coat, Itachi pulls out a pen and rolls over to the counter. "Two refills seems fair to me," he murmurs, "But I want to see you again, Naruto. Soon."

He hears the sound of gloves tearing off, and the sound of pen scratching against paper.

_Going blind…permanently…_

"A couple drops per eye," explains Itachi silkily, signing the note, "At most twice a day."

Forcing a grin, Naruto rips the ticket from the slender hands. "These drops are like liquid gold, thanks!"

"They're for temporary relief, do not forget," reminds Itachi, voice like assuring, soft music.

However, Naruto wrinkles both his nose and brow. "Relief's relief, as long as I can see. That's all that matters."

"Can prescribe glasses for now as well."

As if. Naruto scoffs, even flushing at the horrid image of becoming four-eyed. "No. Forget it. I don't think I got the face for that."

_Wouldn't be able to afford them anyway…_

But he won't mention this to Itachi, who leaves the room with the gait of calm winds.

-.-.-

Now he's got no excuse! With him actually seeing, boarding off the right bus, and he's running.

He's just never been to Sasuke's home before.

But the more he runs and the closer he gets, he loses momentum. Because every home he passes wears this somber face like he's passing a forest of frowning trees. Frowning, _at him_. You know, the feeling of going to a party, and while you're dressed in ripped jeans, everyone's in a suit and gown? Sending ill looks and scowls. Because you should see the dump he's shacking in the outskirts of town, then look at the beauty of this community.

In a word, he doesn't belong.

And when he stands on an actual porch framed in mahogany, arms hang limp at his sides.

He's late, and what's worse, doubtful.

Sure, he reckoned Sasuke was wealthy—but when literally overshadowed by the height of the mansion, Naruto swallows the dread, the films of wet anxiety in his lungs he can't shake off.

Somehow, he knocks with enough force, loud and confident like a lion's roar.

"_It's open_," he hears Sasuke call from the inside.

When he steps into the foyer, Naruto's immediately lost. Three directions to turn to, all promising him Sasuke, and he's freezing in confusion. Like he's entered a hall of infinite doors, paths. And so to avoid looking terribly dumbfounded, Naruto wiggles out of his jacket and hangs it on the gilded coatrack.

That's when gentle tapping of footsteps sound.

"So you're late, what a surprise," deadpans Sasuke, blooming into his vision. Arms crossed, and leaning upon the frame of a wall.

Naruto feels his face collapse into a smile, practically bleeding from his heart.

"I see you've been counting the seconds," he jibes.

"Can I really help it?"

They stare at each other.

_It's just a joke_, supplies the unnerving silence. And Naruto bursts in explosive, forced laughter. "I probably should leave, hm? Didn't know you were the clingy type, ya bastard."

Instead of laughing with him, Sasuke narrows his dark eyes to slits.

"Your place," emphasizes Naruto, changing the subject, "I'm sure you got a planetarium upstairs, or something neat?"

For what felt like a long moment of considering, Sasuke finally scoffs. But makes no attempt to humor the topic, and Naruto rubs his neck in embarrassment, because really he should have known better. This planned meeting, he forced Sasuke into this; and forcing anyone into anything, gave little pleasure as much as it yields half-hearted success.

When Sasuke turns away, naturally he pads after. They enter and pass several rooms, before they stop dead center in a round kitchen.

The second Sasuke reaches for a knife on the marble counter, Naruto shouts raising his arms in outcry, "Woah put that down, Sasuke!" and his terrified, voice echoes from the walls, "You don't need to get so violent. We can talk things through—"

"Oi, moron, shut up," quips the other, even rolling his eyes.

Naruto keeps distance, unsure of what he's seeing. "What're you going to do? Only fair if I arm myself too, you know."

"It's called cooking," murmurs Sasuke, wielding the knife as emphasis (much to Naruto's chagrin), "and the real question is, are you going to make yourself useful? Or stand there talking stupidly?"

"_Eh_?"

Again, they stare into each other. Breezes of their energy striking in constructive waves.

"Well? Get over here to my side, and dice," demands the other.

Now, the winds between them gust. Curl. Pulled in, Naruto sways forward completely entranced, the spontaneity, one would think he's soaring through some galactic interstellar adventure. But really, he might as well have, for closing in the distance between them felt gravitationally right. Side by side, even if they were just hacking away at cucumbers.

Their shoulders bump, and Naruto tenses deeply. Just them grazing, like flitting seconds, their hips colliding briefly—

Why doesn't Sasuke move?

If Itachi hadn't fixed his eyes, he'd never get to see…Sasuke at his side. Wouldn't see Sasuke cutting deftly into a plump tomato, nor the fringes of hair matting against temples—making him wonder why Sasuke's sweating. Would have completely missed the way Sasuke's neck stretches, exposing a strip of tense muscle, and throbbing. Wouldn't see—

Pain splinters, in his fingers. Naruto sucks in a gasp, "Shit!"

"Naruto—you idiot, aren't you watching?"

_Watching you_…

Flushes in embarrassment, especially when the blood seeps and seeps out his thumb. Sets the wretched knife on the counter, and sighs miserably. Man, he's hopeless.

Sasuke takes him by the arm, and forces him to sit on a chair. "I'll get a bandage. Keep the towel and pressure."

"Fine," he huffs.

Feels so right, side by side with him. Always.

Naruto smiles, but with his free hand, squeezes his face in morbid doubt.

…and yet, they scarcely talk. But their collisions were in a word, everything.

They act on each other. With each other: jumped off bridges, off cliffs, dueled in chess, fencing, even run their student government, and in the summers, played in teams for volleyball on the beach. Every scene under the sun, in the moon light, swimming across lakes during marathons. This would be the damned collage he'd make in art class, if he could, except he never really bothered with projects.

Action, though, that's them.

Now, they're in the same damned freshman psychology class, like old times back when they were thirteen in high school.

Still, though they never really talk. And you think you build up privileges after some time, you know, work at a company loyally for years on end, get promoted someday. So he asked Sasuke, god damn, finally asked like one of those slighted, neglected employees. _To talk_, to know. They're childhood friends now, and they know nothing except the potential. Keeping each other at arm's length, far too long.

"Still alive?" comes the call, reverberating from the high ceilings, and rolling around like an alarm.

Naruto jolts, as Sasuke returns with an ace bandage and gauze. And even though his friend's expression is placid like air, the movements reveal something raw. Like a chest of treasures rolling up on shore, but before he could reach for it, is swept again away into sea. Veiled and drowned. As before he can place what it is, Sasuke snatches hold of his injured thumb.

"You cut yourself deeply. Great tactic to get out of cooking," remarks Sasuke, with biting scorn sharp like a hawk's claw.

"You think I did this on purpose?"

Sasuke only knots the bandage around. "Not the first time you've backed down from a challenge."

"What the hell, Sasuke!" he shoots up, "What in…what challenge are you talking about? Because I can cook, okay? For hell's sake I work at a restaurant, think by now I've picked up on kitchen etiquette!"

At this, a smirk flashes instantly. "You work? I didn't realize."

"Well not everyone's got a god damn place like this to their nam—"

Naruto trails off. Because Sasuke's expression collapses into a scowl, effectively garroting him from further speech. Almost he hears, _this is why we're apart_. Shouldn't have commented so off-handedly. This is…why they don't talk.

"Just set the table."

Happy to move on, Naruto obliges. "Okay. Where are your plates and…" stops short when Sasuke points to a pantry by the tri-paneled windows.

Just as he walks over and reaches for the objects of his mission, he hears another instruction.

"Set three plates," adds Sasuke, tone remote.

"Just three?"

"My brother, you, and me. That's it."

Winded, Naruto scarcely keeps steady. "What about your parents?"

Sasuke's back appears unfazed, yet the words slice the air like a cold katana, "Dead."

They never talk, and now maybe this is why. Not like his own backstory was a fun topic, their pasts some morbid icing on the cake. A poison to blind, and look the other way. And as if two hefty loads drop over him, Naruto's shoulders sag. Or was it the frown overtaking him, slumping him forward in dread? Nonetheless, he sets the plates, the glasses, the silverware, even napkins.

Almost six in the evening.

And waiting for the oven timer to go off, they sit together like two bricks in a wall, meant to be aligned, he breathes. For the first time in a long while, actually soaking in quietude together. Through his pores, breathing in the moment because just this morning, he _couldn't see_. And he's not sure how much more time's left.

Wouldn't have seen Sasuke forcing their gazes apart. Or how, nearly imperceptible apples of the throat bob up in a nervous swallow.

As if by instinct, Naruto reaches forward to reassure. "Sasuke, you—you okay?"

Stops in mid-speech, because Sasuke catches his wrist. Squeezing, painfully tight.

"Oi, you—"

"Why did you keep insisting we meet?"

Naruto freezes, especially as the grip transmits emphasis into his very bones. "We just never talk is all," he quickly defends, before giving a fruitless yank, "You wanted this too, stop being such an awkward kid!"

"Talk," echoes back the other, eyes narrowing, but the voice thickens to syrup, "talk about what? Us?"

"Yeah _us_. Think it's not such a bad idea."

Like clouds parting, a ray of glinting light passes in Sasuke. Then the light concentrates into a wry smile.

"Well tell me, what kind of idea is it then?"

Testing. When Sasuke flicks a thumb over his wrist, grazing fingertips along his burning arm. Immediately Naruto shivers, as the tense muscle under the touch twitches in provocation. And yet, he remains wholly still. Torn. When Sasuke softens the vice grip, their hands melt into each other, their skin connects, deepening, pulling, he stays still.

Even when Sasuke tethers their palms into a tender loop. He sits, struck stupefied at the sensations. How their pulses parallel like two drums in sync, throbbing in unison, and he feels the soft touch like pale feathers entwined with his own calloused fingers.

And in that moment, Sasuke disconnects them. With such ease, it's almost frightening.

"So that's how it is," comes the soft murmur, pensive.

Without ever saying a word, somehow through the touch alone, answers exchange between them. But Naruto, under the heat of his flushing face, bolts up.

"What?" he demands, pulse racing to his throat because the influx of stirred feelings bear down like rain. "The hell are you even getting at?"

"I always thought you liked women," remarks Sasuke, almost to himself.

His expression sunders as if Sasuke fired a missile right between the eyes.

"I do. I do like women."

A cloud hovers over the dainty brow. "And what am I to you?"

"A friend," the words rip from the heart, instinct the way his tongue voices his spirit, "you're my best friend, Sasuke. We don't have to talk, I shouldn't have forced it. Just felt after all this time…"

Trails off because Sasuke stands up to even their heights. "A friend," he echoes robotically.

"Even though we started as rivals, you've become my best friend," confesses Naruto, rubbing his neck raw.

"And what's a friend, Naruto? What does 'friend' mean?"

The tone's entirely serious, not a speck of humor.

Space warps under Sasuke's confident, sharp movements. In a blink of an eye, two pale fists seizes his shoulders, reeling them close so their breaths add together into gusts of wind. Vivid storms. The air sways and in perspiration, cools—Naruto feels heavier, feels weightier, even his own eyes droop, and lower—to Sasuke's lips.

And failing the previous tests, Naruto fails this one too: when under the intense gravity, Sasuke falls into him, connecting their mouths.

In a flash, the two fists formerly on his shoulders, now entrench and nest into his hair. As if to keep them from dropping, as if pleading for a chance.

Stumbling back, Naruto feels the hard counter press into his spine. Bends like a tree branch, the way Sasuke pulls him with such force: one would think the man was hungry for this kiss, for years. And he presses clammy palms onto the jabbing wall behind him, screwing eyes shut. Tasting. Fresh air, and pure taste like clean water.

Warm tongue asks for entry, prodding and patting, and the desperation—feels this all: but the door's painfully sealed—like iron bars vaulting.

"Naruto," warns Sasuke, voice hoarse as if laden in deep sorrow, "let me in."

Their noses, and mingling hair bump and sway like they stand in a field of grass blown by wind, gentle evermore. Yet the rest of Naruto freezes in embarrassing stagnation, with the pain of his bleeding thumb acting as the only anchor of inhibition. Tremors of indecisiveness.

"We're both..." he's wanted to try...but...

"Both what?" dares Sasuke, breathing over their mouths, "Attracted to each other?"

First time's god damned nerve-wracking, his first kiss. And with another guy? What would Sasuke think, if he knew he was a virgin. Inexperienced, and practically out of his caste. He'd rather look cool and say he's—no he couldn't lie.

A whuff of confusion parts out his mouth.

And the action earns him a bite on the bottom of his lip. Naruto grunts as if he'd been punched: the attack on his lips, the fluid of heat spilling like simmering warm water, he's sure Sasuke feels his indecision. He's sure. About that, at least.

Especially when Sasuke loosens the violent grip, in favor of persuading in other ways.

Though fire and desperation wanes, Sasuke leans over again, this time with slick and smooth caresses. Falling into perfect alignment. Feels Sasuke's hands run through the thick and thin of his hair, stroking: questioning, comforting, and demanding, all at once.

And at each calm sway apart, even putting a few inches between, his nerves grind in tortuous, agonizing anticipation. The way pale fingers, slender and perfect, hover teasingly along his brow, and frame his burning face...

...tightens and wrenches his breath painfully.

And now Naruto's the one questioning, what Sasuke sees in him. A friend too? Or _this_?

"Well? What happened to talking, dummy?" taunts Sasuke lowering his lips, threatening to kiss again.

Finally his eyes snap open. Afraid to meet blurs. To not _see_.

No words could describe the relief sweeping like a tornado, when Sasuke's dark eyes fills his vision, like two planets in a sky of clarity.

And he sighs. Knowing exactly how to disarm Sasuke, responds viscerally, "Just what is it with you," he then grabs hold of Sasuke's wrists, like whip chains, "I'm god damned injured right now, jerk."

They both glance at the triply, bandaged thumb. You'd think Sasuke taped a pillow to it, and yet, smidgens of blood soaks through.

However before either of them could cope with their sloppy entanglement, the door hinges creak loudly. Sounding as intense as sirens at night, flaring wildly in the field of their crime, and tearing the air obliquely.

_Pad, dap_. Footsteps approaching.

Startled, both turn to face the newcomer. To this awfully, terribly humiliating scene. Of Sasuke against him, bending him backwards over the counter-top. God damn it, Naruto spasms in sudden ferocity, pushing them apart.

Though it was too late.

"Aniki—" he hears Sasuke put his defense, before the trial starts, "this—this is Naruto. And we were…we were fighting when you walked in."

Naruto's heart hangs out as for a nauseating moment, he sees upside down. Itachi. The doctor from today. He knew, he damned knew not to stay—should have waited for Tsunade—and when Sasuke mentioned a brother, he should have ran, but he didn't. And now…

_That's it_. Itachi's going to say something now. About how sick, and ill, he is. And he wishes he was blind right now, not to see Sasuke's reaction. Sympathy, or disgust, at the sound of a hint of weakness.

"Ah, Naruto. Pleasure to finally meet you," is all Itachi says, offering obeisance, until turning away, "I have to go make a phone call regarding a grant proposal, and submit e-mails which could take some time. You eat without me, Sasuke."

"But Itachi—"

When Sasuke chases after his older brother, Itachi swivels round and plants two fingers like a dart. Dead center on Sasuke's forehead. The knockback was slow, and you could see Sasuke shiver to a stop.

"I can't, little brother. Not tonight. You have your friend Naruto anyway, and I won't disturb."

Pounding furiously like a dry funeral drum, Naruto almost couldn't hear over his heart. He's sure he's safe when he hears the footsteps ascend the stairs from a faint distance. He's safe, right? Patient confidentiality, right? But, they're _brothers_. Brothers talked about everything.

_Bading!_ Loud ringing of the oven timer goes off. And he watches Sasuke, who now walks with the air of someone who's lost the gold metal by a point. Walks with such disappointment, and grave frustration, Naruto wonders whether it was bravery or sheer fury prompting Sasuke to stick in bare hands into the fiery heat of the oven.

Sucks in a breath, long held, all's well for—

"If the bleeding doesn't stop soon," announces Sasuke, the moment they sit at the table again, "you'll need stitches."

The glass in his hand nearly falls to the table, almost spilling. "Go to the ER for this?" he puts up his hands in a universal gesture that says, 'no way', "Are you kidding me!"

Sasuke's profile glows with ill-suppressed concern, layered with exasperation of course. "That's right. You don't know."

"Know what?"

That's when Sasuke turns round to face him fully. After a short pause of considering, says, "My brother you just met, is a surgeon. He'd sew you up here and has all the equipment needed. No ER necessary."

"Ah...damn it, you know," now he's rocking nervously in his seat, the rambling's about to commence like a frantic melody, "What do you take me for? Over a little thing like this, really. You know this is nothing, you know that! Plus, that I'd burden your family—"

"Shut up," hisses Sasuke, teeth clacking as if hearing the tirade stings.

Nodding, in agreement, Naruto laughs nervously and defensively. He's got nothing to say, hell's sake. For once, really speechless. The situation here's not helping either, seeing as how Itachi's already helped him enough for one day. Now this is just embarrassing. Can feel himself turn deeply rubicund, crimson like the soaked bandages over his pulsing thumb.

"You're never a burden," whispers Sasuke at last, and the next words are scarcely audible, "Not to me."

With that, Sasuke abandons the dinner, standing up so quickly the chair stumbles in protest.

Naruto stiffens, glued to his seat. "Wait. Where—where are you going Sasuke?"

"To Itachi. Tell him you need help."

As if a bolt of lightning struck through the roof, Naruto freezes over.

That is, before he chases after Sasuke like a crazed animal, but it was no use. And in hindsight, he was bound to meet Itachi soon again. Just not this soon, and not in these circumstances.


	2. Personal Experiment

Recap:

"Can prescribe glasses for now as well."

As if. Naruto scoffs, even flushing at the horrid image of becoming four-eyed. "No. Forget it. I don't think I got the face for that."

_Wouldn't be able to afford them anyway…_

But he won't mention this to Itachi, who leaves the room with the gait of calm winds.

…

Stumbling back, Naruto feels the hard counter press into his spine. Bends like a tree branch, the way Sasuke pulls him with such force: one would think the man was hungry for this kiss, for years. Warm tongue asks for entry, prodding and patting, and the desperation—feels this all: but the door's painfully sealed—like iron bars vaulting.

"Naruto," warns Sasuke, voice hoarse as if laden in deep sorrow, "let me in."

…

Naruto stiffens, glued to his seat. "Wait. Where—where are you going Sasuke?"

"To Itachi. Tell him you need help."

As if a bolt of lightning struck through the roof, Naruto freezes over.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

**Personal Experiment**

**.**

**.**

**.**

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Droning, in the distance. Professor lectures, robotically—and Naruto taps a pencil, moving it like a sundial…a few minutes more…

Whispers in his ear, Kiba's voice. "Dude, what happened to your hand?"

Naruto wiggles his thumb. Admiring the scar, an emblem of his awry date—and the tender care on Itachi's part.

"Cooking," he admits. "Just not my thing."

"That's right. Leave it to the wife," jokes Kiba.

At this, he imagines Sasuke in an apron, scowling. Sasuke cooking for him, already several times now. And tonight too. He flushes and joins Kiba in a fit of sniggering. Though his heart races, and the excitement rushes to his head. Because Kiba has no idea.

With an elbow jab, Kiba asks, "So that's why coach said you were out of commission. But you'll be back on the team soon?"

"Getting the stitches taken out today," he tells the other. "Tomorrow I'll be in for practice."

"Nice. We need you to make it to nationals. You're our best offense."

Without noticing the death glare of the professor, they continue ping-ponging their whispery conversation.

"You too, man," Naruto compliments in kind.

"Hate to admit this, but not without you. No one reads me on the court like you."

A smile bleeds from his lips. "I miss you too."

This earns him another friendly jab to his side. "So hurry up and get better man. And leave the housework to your girlfriend."

They snicker again, with impunity. For the professor ends the class then and there, and dozens of students rouse like a herd of stampeding buffalo. A race out the door, as after a handshaking goodbye, Kiba takes his leave darting up and out.

After packing his empty notebook, Naruto slings his bag over the shoulder and steals forward. Down the stadium aisles, with a growing appetite to hurry and meet his appointment. But as he jogs closer to the exit, his feet catch into a trap.

Bruum.

Crashes to the cold floor. The universe topples, sky's the floor. Breaths catch. Fallen prostrate, and wincing, his fingers twitch, asking his body—how the hell he didn't see the trip-wire?

"My laptop," seethes a voice. "Pick it up."

Not a trip-wire. Someone's adapter, apparently. Naruto peels his face off the floor, feeling the dirt stick to him. And when he cracks his eyes open, meaningless blurs meet his periphery.

"Sorry about that," he apologizes.

"I said pick it up," comes the growl.

"Alright. Just hold on, will you?"

And in a fit, he searches the dark ocean of the floor, following the trails of the computer adapter. But the trail's a dead end, disconnected and severed. The clear tunnel of his vision, narrows. And he could have been an octopus with eight tentacles to put to good use, and still come up with nothing, he swears. Because he gropes at his sides and turns a full circle, still on the ground.

Where—where? And his fingers splay and hook, longing to catch the fish in this sea of undulating air.

"Well? What are you, blind?"

Blood roars in his ears. Hot sticks of red pokes at his cheeks, he feels rods of fire branding him from the inside. People, or a person, or anyone's watching this show—and now he's sure the laptop's camoflouged in color. And just when he's really about to melt into a sorry puddle, his needy fingers coil around cool plastic. Eureka.

Quickly, he stands and holds out laptop. "Take it, douchebag."

This must have infuriated the owner, who snatches it with ferocity.

"You'll pay for the damages, if I find any."

And when Naruto storms for the stairwell, he finds a seemingly empty corner to dock. He so desperately squeezes out several drops into both eyes; even as he hears Itachi's instructions, he needs so much more. Squeezes five or six drops in each eye. For anything less quenches nothing, and the balm lasts only for a few hours before he's needing more.

His eyesight's worsened these last two weeks.

He pants, hoarse and hot. How much longer could he pretend? People will start noticing. They already have. And Sasuke—

The whole bus ride, he shivers with resolution. And in signing his name in the queue, he clenches with determination. As he paces round the waiting area, whirling in new confidence. He's going to do the testing. As Itachi advised. He has to. The team, his friends, Sasuke: he'll lose them all.

"Uzumaki Naruto?" calls out the medical attendant.

As per routine, he follows her down the halls, just as before. Shaking in restrained excitement. She records his vitals, and he waits.

Trembling, at this determination flowing in his veins; the waves of invincibility pulses and blocks his doubts, bunging them into a sealed well. If he just follows Itachi's counsel…do the tests, start treatment…

"Naruto."

Jumping a mile out his chair, Naruto scarcely recovers his breath.

"Oh hey doc, it's been a while."

Itachi shuts the door behind, reading through a file. "It has. Two weeks."

"Thanks for fixing me up. And—for writing me a note to my basketball coach."

He shivers when Itachi finally looks up from the folder. Probing, smoldering gaze.

"You plan to rejoin your team again?"

"Of course. I won't just quit!"

A faint smile shimmers across Itachi. A soft sheen under the strict light, almost imperceptible. And immediately Naruto's drawn in, leaning on the edge of the patient chair.

As per habit, he rubs his neck. "Itachi, I—I also need to ask you…"

Seeing the elegant brows quirk in curiosity, Naruto glances away in embarrassment.

"Thing is, I haven't told Sasuke. I don't think I need to, even, y'know?"

Guarding steadily, Itachi remains steadfastly quiet. An impenetrable, unerringly diplomatic enigma.

Taking this cue, Naruto continues in a thick voice, "I mean, you haven't said anything, have you?"

And when silence creeps and eats his flesh, Naruto snaps his gaze back, searching.

"No, Naruto, I have not told my little brother. Was that really a concern of yours?"

An experience, almost surreal, to feel wholly entranced by someone's voice. His best friend's brother: some kind of source of everlasting assurance, and just a taste of its mesmerizing effects, a sip of this tranquil air, has him craving to hear more.

"Come on, doc. Concerned? Me?" He flashes a toothy grin. "No. Definitely not! Just don't want people worrying over some passing phase, y'know?"

Upon setting the files aside, Itachi steals forward.

"So your eyesight's improved?"

Bristling, Naruto strains to keep still, especially as the other towers over him. He vaguely recalls the resolution he made just minutes ago—to start the testing. But it wasn't until he's sitting in the spotlight, and the words hover at the tip of his tongue, that he realizes how stupid he'd sound. Embarrassment worse than when he crawled on the floor, for the laptop.

He couldn't afford any treatment, any support. Why would he even bother?

"Oh a lot, it's a miracle. I don't even need the drops anymore," he lies effortlessly. "I told ya. This was all from too much roughhousing, or lack of sleep or something."

In that instant, a cloud hovers over Itachi's expression.

"Some miracle, indeed."

Naruto swallows, glancing nervously away. "Yeah. Lucky."

After Itachi removes the stitches, a precise, sterile, yet swift procedure, Naruto shoots to his feet. The final vestiges of the horrific embarrassments he endured, gone. Only the scar of it remains branded.

Stretching out his muscles in mock confidence, Naruto turns away. "Thanks doc. I won't snag any more of your time."

"Just one moment."

Freezing, he glances over his shoulder.

"I have one more patient," says Itachi. "If you wait for me, I'd like to show you something."

Feels so ridiculous, he couldn't restrain the fathom-wide grin.

"Well sure. I love surprises. I'll wait, definitely."

A wry half-smile passes over Itachi, snapping off the gloves and moving past.

"Good. You'll find I'm full of them."

Naruto blinks before chasing after, only for the doctor to have vanished into another examination room.

Scratching his cheek in contemplation, he kicks forward into the waiting room in complete wonder. A little anxiety, sure; after all, what if Itachi didn't buy his lie? What if Itachi would stop him from joining back the team? Although as silly as that sounded, Naruto huffs out an anxious sigh.

And just as he picks up a sport's magazine off the stand, his phone's vibrating. Flipping his phone, Naruto reads a text. From Sasuke.

"Did my brother take care of you?" it reads.

For a second, he forgets about the stitches. Panic rains over him, how would Sasuke—only for normalcy to return the next second, because the scar reminds. As soon as he sends a response, another text fires up his phone.

"What are you doing on Saturday? Let's climb the Redridge."

The idea sounds so fantastic, so inspiring, Naruto obliges instantly. "Whoever reaches the peak first pays for dinner," he types back.

They volley several inside jokes, but the challenge's set. And as he's tucking in his phone, a voice behind him sounds. Or three, actually.

"See you tomorrow, Dr. Uchiha!"

The three secretaries nearly cling at Itachi's coattails, as he makes away from them. And instead of Sasuke's typical snub of a cold scoff, Itachi's eyes crescent in a pleasant smile, waving at them.

Naruto comments under his breath. "You're really different than him."

He hadn't meant for the other to hear, but Itachi takes his hand and leads them out the clinic, with an entertained quirk of the brow.

"How so?"

Admittedly, clever. Really clever. Naruto almost didn't notice his hand's being held. Unlike Sasuke, a bit socially awkward, you'd feel your own skin and bones with whom such a gesture would be jolting—but now, with Itachi, Naruto swears if he was just a little bit more blind, he wouldn't even realize.

Holding his breath, Naruto glances up to meet the striking scrutiny. The fact he has to crane up his neck, made him feel smaller. He felt like an apple scattered beneath this majestic tree. And he straightens up his posture as much as possible, to try to equal their heights…to no avail. Nevertheless, he stands erect shoulders back, chin up, to which Itachi sends him an amused look.

"Well—I…it's nothing." And upon seeing Itachi's amusement grow, Naruto adds, "I mean, I don't know why I thought you'd be the same anyway."

What's worse, he craves to keep the connection open. Instinct, pleads from within, intoxicating his muscles into relaxing, letting Itachi's fingers coil around his own. This way he won't trip over another sneaky wire, or bump into a wall, or fall into another ditch—he keeps falling—and this one time, just once, he'll lean on someone.

"Why? Perhaps because the human mind naturally tends to assimilate new—even exotic—stimulations to our past experiences," explains Itachi, neutral. Deceivingly plain. "You would even make better sense of me, using your experience with Sasuke."

'Exotic stimulations'. Is what he hears only. Naruto nods, vaguely hearing a part of him snigger.

Wait, hold on.

"Stop right there!" Naruto blunders, only to feel his hand clasped tighter. "What kind of 'experience' with Sasuke?"

"All. I mean all."

Jumping away, Naruto practically dances in denial. "Eh? What you saw—what you saw that day…I swear—wait, what exactly does 'all' mean? And come to think of it…exotic?"

Their hands slipped apart, and he feels Itachi pat his shoulders in confidence.

"Let's forget what I saw, or what you think I saw. Seeing is only half the business."

An opportunity for a clean slate, who wouldn't take up such an offer?

"Sure," his voice tremors with lame agreement. "I guess." He wishes.

Whuffing out a nervous breath, he spins away to cool off the steam; for Sasuke's older brother to even hint that there was 'exotic, 'experiences' with—he stomps forth with sudden energy, shaking his head. He and Sasuke agreed they'd keep this all on the down low. Their little affairs, or love trysts, lingers in the infamous experimental, testing stage. So why the hell would Sasuke mention anything! And they're both guys, for cripes sakes, if any of this spreads...if his teammates found out...

However without Itachi to guide him, he knocks into innocent passerby; and he apologizes profusely to the lady who he's knocked down, helping them up. Only to be knocked down himself in the process by a person swerving at him from behind: really how two cars crash, and other incoming cars swerve to avoid, but inevitably add to the pile. So now he's a helpless heap on the pavement with this poor old woman, who's lifted up with someone's help.

Then he feels Itachi's deft hands pull him to a stand without hesitation, with strong purpose.

"Are you alright?"

Freezing. Nothing, this was nothing, compared to falling into potholes, because those traps really slip his sight.

"Course I'm alright," he waves.

However the grip on his shoulder's glued. Itachi never lets go. In fact, he's manhandled down the block, and it was a fun ride, actually. He laughs the whole way. The second they cross into a garage, the ambiance changes. The stage darkens. Blurs. Ceiling's out of sight, the shades of grey, the lights dimming and narrowing, the floors stretching.

"My little brother invited you for dinner, hasn't he?"

Voice echoes, bounces. Reverb's high, and enthralling. He could hear the intonations like cadences of a curious melody…a live concert, and who is he to disturb it? So he nods only, and the whole time Itachi practically wheels him to the car, a fair, but modest vehicle, whose pretty curves Naruto could pet with affection.

Headlights wink at them at the command of a remote.

"Well I'll drive you, under a single condition."

Afraid of nothing, Naruto whirls to face the flashing gaze. "Oh yeah?"

"Accompany me on a side trip."

"A trip, I love tri—wait, really?" He scratches at his neck, searching for the right words. "But why take me?"

"You'll see."

The doors open invitingly, and Naruto doesn't need to be asked twice, he plops right inside. When they're both boxed in, the quiet from the barren garage amplifies. Until Itachi reaches over for the glove compartment.

The leather case which is unsheathed catches his interest.

"I hope you don't mind." Itachi tells him. "A personal experiment of mine."

Experiment? Naruto perks up, twitching with curiosity, especially when it's opened.

The next moment is one heat-filled distortion. Itachi leans over to him, so they share the same breath. In unison bathing in the constructive melody of their exhales, Naruto feels a tremor up his spine. Sputtering, he asks what's the big idea? Under erratic pants, he feels a sweat break out in three seconds flat. The whole world in the periphery fades into static. Gravity's weakened, and he's lighter than ever.

Until Itachi raises up a pair of glasses. Carefully fitting them onto Naruto's burning face.

"Your first tests indicated this would be the strength compatible."

Naruto's fingers shoot up to touch the frames around his own eyes. Patting them with disbelief.

However, Itachi preserves their proximity, perhaps leaning closer.

"And I wanted to see for myself, if you had the face for them or not."

Naruto feels his eyes widen, and he flushes terribly. "That's the so called experiment?"

"I'd conclude my hypothesis tests positively."

Through these lens, he sees every pixel he before couldn't. And the faint smile in the other. And…and the lips, perfect and so close to his own. Radiating at him, with acceptance—unconditional acceptance. He fixates at the light, deep, and drops in mortification—heart hammering. And when Itachi pulls back, the intensity of this warmth recedes. But he couldn't tear away from the view.

He regains his composure, vaguely running his fingers over the frames round his eyes.

"You mean I look good?" he asks, heart still throbbing in his throat.

Itachi rolls down a mirror. "Check for yourself. Though, I have to say you appear remarkably smarter."

Ironically, the first thing he notices in his reflection wasn't the ridiculous four-eyed look. But the flaring red of his cheeks like fields of poppy flowers burgeoning, as if he ran for miles, so desperate for rest and fulfilment and…

Naruto clamps the mirror shut. "That's what you wanted to show me? No way in hell—" He angles a sharp look at the doctor. "Will I go out in public looking like some googly-eyed dork. You're wrong, I don't have the face."

"In comparison to walking blind, wouldn't you choose to swallow some pride?"

"But I can see, though. You really don't believe me?"

Shimmers of a smile flits across Itachi as he shifts the car into life.

"Give the glasses a chance, Naruto."

"Have you seen any athletes play games with these on?" he rants. "I might as well write a sign on my forehead saying I'm an open target just aim for my head—"

"Of course not. On the court, you'd opt for goggles."

Naruto spreads his arms, as if trying to catch the perfect counter. But none comes, and so he crosses them and kicks back in the seat. Goggles didn't sound so bad. Yet still, echoing like an after image, is the portrait of him, wearing these spectacles, admitting and showing to the world his weakness—it was an awful weakness. That came too suddenly.

And the light of acceptance from Itachi, sparks hope in him.

"Itachi, do you think," he rasps out, keeping his eyes out the window. "Do you think Sasuke—would feel the same as you?"

"You said it yourself, he and I aren't the same."

Bristling, he turns a strained gaze to Itachi who spares not a glance. And he feels homeless, almost right then and there. He's not sure why, just the thought makes him crazily depressed. Naruto raps his fingers against the pane.

Plays casual even, despite the frown climbing to his lips. "That was just a 'what-if' question anyway. I can see just as before, like I told you."

"If that were the case, you would have cringed the very moment I put those glasses on you." A pause. "Instead, you're handling its intensity rather well."

His heart skips a beat.

"Which means," continues Itachi, "your eyesight's worsened. Considerably."

So that's what this was really about. He massages his own face from sheer passion, overwhelming him in this moment because, why Sasuke's brother of all people would give a damn. Felt unorthodox as he had nobody, hasn't the experience of someone delving into his wellbeing; and the confusion tickles him in a funny way, roiling at his joints, and he fidgets to regain balance.

And he's asking the question when they park on a rural hill. When they're cut off from the luxury of street lamps, where the only source of light is the striking bars of dusk's sun.

"Why are we here?"

In the distance, in the taut horizon behind them, the only vestiges of urban life rose as a tower. Several of them.

Following his trail of vision, Itachi remarks off-handedly. "That would be my old university. We're about thirty minutes away."

Naruto rips from the view to ask again, only to find Itachi trailing away in the opposite direction.

"Hey, wait up!" he follows after.

Soon as he catches up, their strides synchronize. Step. Together. By step. Wading through the grass, up to his damned knees, he refuses to fall behind. And as their arms swing, in the perfect moment, Itachi clasps their hands. Automatic. Adroit, perfectly fitting.

"I forget, you don't need it anymore," says Itachi, who releases almost immediately after.

And Naruto freezes over. Absently feeling over the frames again, only now, really, truly now realizing why Itachi had taken his hand in the first place. To veer him steady. Because Itachi knows, regardless what he says, that he couldn't see well. And how ridiculous for him to believe otherwise, how strange for his instincts to assume the gesture would have meant more.

"Lagging behind, Naruto?"

Itachi smiles—deceivingly vanilla—over his shoulder, especially when meeting Naruto's lion-hearted scowl.

"Just letting you lead."

"As you should."

That caught him by surprise. But Itachi being Sasuke's brother, perhaps it wasn't so very astounding for them to equally press his fatal weakness.

Rebounding, Naruto bursts forth, trailing down the jagged descent, of dun rocks, following Itachi's general direction. Because of course he leaps ahead. Until closer and closer, the sounds of running water amplify, up when they reach a clearing. Clearing, though would be insufficient. The place was virtual reality, a snapshot of a dream.

The running creek reflects at least five shades of red. Orange gleams, like the color of his jacket, and the rocks flanking the running river…dipped in violet hues…and the scent greeting him, of lavender, of pine. Transfixed, he stands in the midst of this view…in complete admiration.

Only to then feel confusion rain upon him, the confusion from before, couldn't be quelled by the beauty of this sight.

He turns to Itachi, or where he thought the other would be, but the man's nowhere. Abandoned? Stranded.

"Here, I'm here."

Snaps up, to see Itachi sitting, with his back leaning on a trunk, across the river. One knee propped up and flexed to the chest, while the other's flat on the earthy soil. In fact, Itachi appears tranquil, and a tad bit bored.

"How'd you get over there, huh?" demands Naruto, flourishing a fist.

Head tipping up graciously, Itachi's eyes gleam in emboldening amusement.

"Wouldn't you like to figure out on your own?"

He's on it. You should have seen him then. Practically sniffing for a secret, hidden trail. Just to show Itachi he could figure out anything he put his mind to. And madly, searches and checks, east, west, north, for a path. There wasn't any. Except one.

Next thing he knows, he's throwing himself into the river. Making the big sacrifice. The impulse to win overrides sense, and he really shouldn't have leapt in like a bomber. Splashes explode, the surface breaking. But to his shocking discovery, the water's shallow as a few feet. He feels the floor, water scarcely reaching up to his knees.

Why the hell did he think he'd be diving into a seven foot pool?

"Sometimes our eyes deceive," answers Itachi, as if hearing his thoughts. "Only seeing the surface, without perceiving its depth."

Well he perceived awfully wrong. And treading across, Naruto plops beside the other. Huffing. In with the pine air, then soon a cool breeze dissolves his adrenaline induced heat.

"Mind sharing the wall?" he asks, pointing to the trunk.

Hospitality's offered as Itachi scoots a little. And they lean shoulder to shoulder, sharing the uneven wall, ragged but earthy and assuring.

"So I guess that's the other half of the business," prompts Naruto. "I get what you mean now. Seeing and perceiving, right?"

But the bored look in Itachi maintains, and…it scrapes Naruto, chafes his grin away. As a matter of fact he feels hurt by the indifference, as if he's hauntingly abandoned.

"What? I'm wrong?"

"Wrong, right, it doesn't matter."

"Then?"

Some light dances across, before swiftly hidden by a veil of overhead trees. Canopy aflutter at the wind, rustling sounds like whispery gossip.

"Let me treat you, Naruto."

Winded. Naruto strains to stare ahead, into the glimmering water. He could see through the lens, the lights of it all. And he inclines his head back purposefully, to blur the view. But it wouldn't blur. He was fine.

"But this present's working just swell." Though he's cringing at his own words. "And I mean it, Itachi. You're an ace…I don't think anyone's looked out for me like you have."

"You really won't tell Sasuke?"

Naruto rubs at his nose. "I'm not terminally ill or anything. This isn't—it's not a big deal. I'll overcome this, I swear. He doesn't need to know."

"Then at least confide in me."

Breath hitches when a smile's flashed his way. So warm, his hair raises, like he's sitting by a hearth or furnace. Suddenly, the feeling of their shoulders touching, is a conduit of sparks, trains of them. He feels welcomed. The spotlight burning him in the office, vanishes. The burns of pressure, of mortifying heat, fades.

"Thanks. I mean it. But I wouldn't want to burden you anymore."

And when Itachi raises a hand, he thinks he'll get poked just like Sasuke.

But his hair's ruffled instead.

"You're not a burden. I'm glad you joined me, thank you."

Though his brows tremble, Naruto unconsciously leans into the caress. The warmth seeps into his blood, and he flushes.

"Say, you come here often, don't you?" he asks.

Itachi retracts the touch.

"Every month I visit. Usually alone."

"Why here though? I mean…it's nice and all, but—" he trails off, especially seeing Itachi look away.

"In memory of a friend."

Naruto stiffens. Especially at the glaze of distance, how a fog passes over the other.

However, as if the remote expression never existed, Itachi returns with vigor.

"You remind me of him."

Naruto flares with surprise. "So he's a cool guy then! Handsome, right? Probably incredibly smart, and fantastic at sports!"

Laughing lightly, Itachi awards him with another ruffle at the hair.

"It's more subtle than that."

Trees collapsing, or his heart. Naruto would check, but he leans in to catch the next words; the climax to the drums of nature surrounding them. Only for an unreal interruption to slice the distinct momentum.

Because in the worst timing, a cell phone goes off. It was Itachi's.

"About a half hour more, Sasuke." Itachi rises up, already turning, speaking into the mic. "I had Naruto wait for me…we'll be there soon."

Then after the call's hung up, they tread across the river, clamber up the rocky path yonder the hill…Naruto feels his hands twitch with this need, to have Itachi's hand in his. And he feels a hole, widening, and gaping. He feels himself longing for the same acceptance Itachi offers, from Sasuke too. Frowns even though he's forcing the corners of his mouth with all his might…to stay up, to not fall under the pain.

.

-o-

.

The moment they pull up into the driveway, Naruto catches sight of a familiar silhouette waiting on the porch. And it was a great thing he did, because he quickly unequips his glasses, shoving them into his coat pockets unkindly. He earns a frown from Itachi.

Feathers on end, Sasuke stands like a sentinel on duty, pacing with uncharacteristic anxiety, as if impending doomsday news awaits. So when Naruto and Itachi stand over the steps, they're rained with a brief interrogation before allowed to pass.

"Is everything alright?"

"I took Naruto with me to visit."

"Really?" breathes Sasuke, genuinely astounded. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have met you two."

"Next time little brother."

The peaceful undertone beneath Itachi's words, was impossible to dispute.

And the winds from the beautiful clearing followed them here, sweeping and whistling in between the three of them. Without the glasses or another abusive session with the drops, Naruto could scarcely make out anything in this darkness.

Itachi makes a noncommittal noise, slips past, and leaves them behind.

Hears Itachi's steps fade, and naturally he pads after, only tripping over the last step, which felt like tripping over a goddamned boulder. However, he never meets the floor. Saved.

Catching him by the shoulders, Sasuke sets him aright. Though, without letting go. Protective.

"Watch it, moron."

He's about to shove Sasuke off, only to be seized. Captured by the lips, and the grip on his shoulders writes desperation into his very bones. Diving, together. Into a depth, an ocean, and Sasuke holds him and he holds back, everything else is muffled—submerged in water. Can't breathe. He clambers up, only for Sasuke to keep him under.

Gasping, for words.

"Holy hell—your brother's gonna—"

"Fine. We're fine."

And fueled at the separation, Sasuke reclaims his mouth, hungry noises erupting one after the other, like a congress of instincts…possessing. Inhabiting and transmitting, and the scent of Sasuke's familiar musk, he naturally leans into the portal, for some of the passion, he hopes to sip like a poison and be equally possessed. Pressing his lips into Sasuke's chapped, nerve wrought ones, melding with his in the intense boil.

Yet, the sips, tastes, none of it patches this widening hole, gaping at his sternum. He tears back, clutching at the void, feeling air vacuumed away. He ought to tell Sasuke, and let the light of acceptance fix this nagging, sucking wound. Squeezes a fistful of his chest, at the pained melody of his heart.

Sasuke misinterprets the gesture as a 'that was mind-blowing'.

"Spend the night, will you?"


End file.
